Most of you know that in February Chris wrapped up a year-long project in Fishkill, NY that caused him to travel every weekday, forcing us to see each other only on weekends. January and February proved particularly rough because Chris worked at least 16 hours a day, and on an overnight schedule. Needless to say, that poor guy who usually needs at least 9 hours of sleep was less than functional. Oh, and did I mention that during the overnight shifts he had to work outdoors for hours at a time? In zero-degree, negative windchill weather, during a period when mid-state New York was picking up at least 6 inches of snow, every 3 days. Let's just say Fishkill looked like Hoth (thank you, Star Wars nerds), Chris was frozen and exhausted, and his nerves were fried.
I didn't see him at all for several weeks at the end of the project, and rarely could speak to him because of the hours. While thinking about him one night, I perked up because a fantastic Groupon deal popped up for a weekend deal in St. Michael's, Maryland. I figured a relaxing Chesapeake getaway might be exactly what Chris would need to rejuvenate, and to welcome spring.
Despite the chill, we just had to sit on an outdoor deck at a bar and have a "dark and stormy," while overlooking the bay. Our conversation and pure bliss at having unadulterated together time kept us warm, even though we could see our breath. The steaming hot crab pretzel didn't hurt either.
After some dinner and evening exploration, we wanted to go back to our huge, cozy room at the hotel. The plan was to open up a bottle of red wine and snuggle in for Chris' favorite--"The Mystery" (for those who do not know his lingo, that means the Saturday night 48-hours Mystery on CBS, of which he has a not-so-small obsession) followed by more wine and Saturday Night Live.
Upon entering the room, it sounded like our neighbors had their TV on really loudly, but we thought nothing of it and went on with our night. Then it seemed to get louder, prompting Chris to turn up our TV volume, as the inconsiderate wall-sharers were "interrupting The Mystery." As it turns out, that couple was fighting LOUDLY and getting louder. And not just a short fight. This went on in excess of two hours. At one point the woman left the room and slammed the door, but came back about 15 minutes later to continue the fight. At least at this point, the screaming had leveled off to a moderate shouting. Chris pointed out both last night and this morning that if you pay huge amounts of money to take a vacation on the Chesapeake (I mean, WE didn't pay huge amounts, thanks to the magic of Groupon, but THEY probably did) wouldn't you want to enjoy it instead of spending the entire time inside and fighting?
Couldn't they have figured out what I did, that the luxuriously huge whirlpool bath and tons of the orange bubble bath are the perfect way to enjoy a brisk weekend in the Chesapeake? Trust me, when the bubbles multiply to such an extent that they threaten to overtake your head, it's really hard to be angry. Maybe that couple shares my dislike of the cold and had some cabin fever-induced pent up anger that needed venting. But let me assure you, that bath would have been hugely therapeutic for Yelly McYellerson and Nasty McScreams-a-Lot. At least they could have tried getting their money's worth.
Now we're back at home, ridiculously relaxed and ready (though not willing) to tackle another week. Basically, now I'm just twiddling my thumbs, waiting for spring to truly arrive and continue this feeling of contentment. No more of this now spring's here for a day/now it's not junk. Granted, the predicted sustained warmer weather this week will likely make the tree pollen explode, rendering me a puffy, drippy, itchy goon, but I don't care. The calendar says spring is technically here, the weather casters say it will finally start to feel like it, and I'm officially twitterpated.
But you grew up in Wisconsin.
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